Call Out My Name

Done For Me

A sharp intake of breath.

A hoarse gasp.

Alina Starkov was sitting up, clutching at her chest, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm herself down. She heaved frantically as she took in her surrounding, tried to make out her body.

Her body felt like it had been electrocuted; there was ringing in her ears, her vision was blurry, she felt tears streaming down her cold cheeks.

Everything was vibrating around her; she cried out from the sensation.

She touched the ground around her, all snow, all cold and wet. She felt something warm and furry. It was the wolf that had dragged her, or what was left of it.

She was covered in blood, but it was not hers. As her vision cleared, she looked around and saw the massacre that lay around her. Bloodied snow, dismembered bodies, uprooted trees, and broken branches.

The Cut had done all this, and she had survived it. She had survived the light of the Cut, even when she felt it pass through her. Alina Starkov was in one piece.

Vladim fell to his knees as he cried out her name and wiped his tears.

Alina couldn't get up; she felt like the ground wanted to swallow her whole as if it wanted her to stay there and put down roots.

"Go!" She cried out to him as she struggled with her breathing. She tried to turn around to her side, but even that turned out to be a struggle. All she could do now was sit and clutch at her chest, which felt as if someone had planted a thousand daggers in it.

"Go to the others, Vladim," she told him as he cried and prayed to the Saints. "Teach them what you've learned. Teach them how to use the Cut!"

"I almost killed you!" He cried out.

"I ordered you to!" She shouted hoarsely. "Now go, Vladim! Go and help the others; I will be fine!"

Vladim got up on his feet and turned reluctantly around; Alina shouted at him to hurry and go. She watched as the boy ran.

Aleksander stood there, on the sides, watching at her, watching at her rise and breath. She was alive and well. How many lives did she have? Was she immortal? How could someone survive the Cut? It made no sense; the more he wanted to distance himself from her, the more she pulled him back, the more she intrigued him, the more he wanted.

He stepped closer to her; Alina looked at him, still struggling to calm herself down.

"Aleksander," she called his name as she looked up at him and stretched a hand to him. He took it, but instead of pulling her up, he sat down next to her on his knees. He looked at her as if she was not real, as if he saw her for the first time for what she was as if she was something breakable; he held her hand gently. His eyes were big, the wonder and disbelief were written all over his face. All these centuries and he finally saw something that surprised him; he finally saw a miracle. Finally, he saw as a Saint.

She held onto him with a strong grip, and she tried to move her feet from underneath her. She was still struggling with her own body as if she was just getting adjusted to it, as if it was something unfamiliar, something she has forgotten how to work. Something entirely new to her.

"What happened?" She asked him, confused and scared. "How am I still alive? I saw the Cut coming at me; I felt it go through me!" Alina coughed, and Aleksander put his other hand on her back.

"It makes no sense!" She gasped as she took in a sharp breath.

He was looking at her silently. It made no sense, yet it did. He remembered what he had told her countless times.